


The Adventures of Young Nick Danger (As written by a young High School Freshman)

by HeapBigPhotographer



Category: The Firesign Theatre
Genre: Gen, Horribly Written, Murder, Older Work, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeapBigPhotographer/pseuds/HeapBigPhotographer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HE WALKS AGAIN BY NIGHT! Nick Danger, Third Eye, relives a horribly written instance of fanfiction concerning him back in his college days.</p><p>GAPE! At the flat characterization!</p><p>CRINGE! At the forced references!</p><p>MOAN! At the myriad of cliches and poor writing choices</p><p>It wasn't written for English class, after all folks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Young Nick Danger (As written by a young High School Freshman)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was rooting through the old folders again, not having learned my lesson. Deep in the bowls of my first semester Earth Science course I came across an assignment where the goal was to show the scientific method in action. It appears at the time The Firesign Theatre had been one of my obsessions, and High School Freshman Me felt like trying to expose people to their comedy stylings.
> 
> Needles to say, it didn't work.
> 
> Still, this is, to my knowledge, the sole example of Firesign Theatre fanfiction, and I am convinced Nick Danger should live on in some way, shape, or form.
> 
> I could have cleaned it up, but I think I owe it to my younger self to retain the credit. He had the chutzpah to turn it in, so I will have the fortitude to share it.   
> Enjoy, as much as it is possible.

The Adventures of Young Nick Danger (based on the character created by the Firesign-Theater, you should definitely listen to The Further Adventures of Nick Danger which is side/part two of the album How Can you Be in Two Places At Once If You’re Not Anywhere At All? P.S. Nearly all the characters mentioned are the intellectual property of The Firesign Theatre and their affiliates, henceforth this is an innocent piece of fan fiction and please don’t sue me. )

Episode #1 A bad Case of Murder.

Hi there folks my name is Nick Danger, and this is the story of how I got my investigative license at the Los Angles Community College. That college is now closed but it shared parts of the campus with The California Institute of Applied Science Fiction which as you may recall was the host the College level Nuclear Winter Games. I met a lot of the characters you may recall from my famous radio show there; including Rocky Rococo, Catherwood AKA Daniel Haber , and the girl who I asked to marry me but instead signed a $5,000 , Melanie Haber aka Audrey Farber, aka Susan Underhill, aka Betty-Joe Bialosky, who every called Nancy. This story takes pace after she turned me down.

I was sitting in my room on the third floor of the Omonay Potmay Sigma house looking at the contract that Nancy had signed, that ring I had gotten from Cracker-Back Jox jewelers was paid for but I was afraid that my heart was going to cost a lot more to be repaired, and I hadn’t been able to get health insurance because of my Fraternity is built on the toxic waste dump built over a genetically altered virus dump which was placed on the site of a Native American burial ground. The company said something about not wanting to figure out how policies would change if a policy holder where to die and then raise from the dead as a flesh eating zombie. I thought that was just stupid of them, it hasn’t been part of a pledges hazing to go down to the basement and bring back an undead arm for years. But any way as I was sitting there contemplating my broken heart I got a call from Professor Nothingsuspiciousaboutme.

“Hello, Nick Danger, private eye in training.” I answered the phone.

“Ah, Nick, I am calling you to ask whether you think you can take your masters tonight,” I had a hard time understanding him through his thick Russian accent and what sounded like a dance recital with out the music.

“I think I can Professor Nothingsuspiciousaboutme, but I have a question for you, where the heck are you? Are you in the dance hall? Or maybe your using one of those new portable computers the guys in CIASF developed that only weigh 500 hundred pounds, but can both add and subtract?”

“No, I don’t have one of those improbable contraptions; I wouldn’t trust one of those as far I could through it. The answer to your second question I am in my office. As for the tapping noise I have been hearing it ever since some telephone workers showed up here in my office dressed as policemen and attached a huge box to my phone,” he made a tremendous clanging by banging on the box. “Anyway if you want to get your masters early why don’t you come over here and solve a mystery for me, you see when I came in to my office I found a dead body on the floor, I would normally have given this opportunity to Peter Desmond since he is at the head of the class but you see he is the body on the floor.”

Something he said suddenly connected with something in my brain and I screamed out “Hang up right now professor they’re tapping the phone lines!” I’ll be right over; don’t let anyone in, especially the police!”

I rushed out of the fraternity and hopped in my car, I pulled out of the lot and sped down the street and across the compass, I missed the turn so I asked for directions at a gas station and 24 minutes later I was there, and I was the first one there . Unfortunately that excludes the police. I marched up to the first cop I saw and asked him in my most intimidating voice “Excuse me sir, but would you please tell me what is going on here?” the only problem was it wasn’t very Intimidating because in between getting out of the car and beginning to ask the question I had somewhere forgotten that I was terrified of policemen and when I get scared I get polite.

“Well pal we thought that there was something suspicious about Mr. Nothingsuspiciousaboutme here and it turns out we were right, he killed someone. Someone with connections.” The cop went off and smoked a “Fantastic” brand cigarette.  
I asked the next one I saw where Professor Nothingsuspiciousaboutme was. Turns out he was being held at the precinct house.

When I got there the professor demanded to see his ambassador who it turns out was in the next cell. I had to wait a whole three hours before Prof. Nothingsuspiciousaboutme was brought to the interview room. When they finally brought him out I had a few questions for him.

“So what exactly happened Professor, did you just come in, see the body, and call me or did you look around the place first? Oh, and if I graduate now can I still go to graduation with everyone else?”

“To answer your first question, No I just saw Peter on the floor not looking at all well, in fact dead. I immediately called you and then the police came and put me in this rat-hole excuse for a secret police station, I tell you back home we have proper facilities for the investigation of crimes and the interrogation of criminals. As to your second question, Peter was the only other student, how could you have a graduation party with just you?” I laughed at his foolishness and responded with a laid-back attitude.

“You forget Professor I’m in OPS, there is always a way to have party,” I was admiring my own joke when something struck me, rather hard as a matter of fact. I turned around and saw a huge policeman standing over me; I winced and was led back to the lobby without a word of protest.

I decided to go back to Professor Nothingsuspiciousaboutme’s office. When I got there I asked the CSI team whether I could examine the crime scene. “Sure go ahead pal, but we need to subdue the victim first.” That surprised me a bit. “What do you mean ‘subdue the victim’? He’s dead isn’t he?” I was looking at the forensics expert inquisitively when he took a deep breath and recounted how Pete got up after they had chalked his outline and found that the only wound was fairly deep gunshot grazing wound on the side of his head. This sounded vaguely familiar, it had happened enough times at OPS house. “Hmmmmm… Can I see him?” I asked the Coroner Studies Institute trainee. [Just a note, this story takes place in the 30s-40s so forensics have yet to become a popular part of police investigations] “Okay, but only through the peephole, we don’t want you messing up the crime scene or anything.” I walked over to the entrance to the office and observed a very pale man with a huge gash on the side of his head munching on a screaming coroner’s assistant. I wondered what could be the cause of this and I asked no one in particular “What could be the cause of this?” I wandered around the room and saw an open book on a coffee table with a chart drawn on it. I was drawn to the drawn on chart and read the caption: How to Use the Methodical Methods of Science for the Science of Solving a Mystery. After digesting the mouthful the caption contained I realized that this was just what I was looking for, after the murderer that is. I picked up the book and a pencil. I started talking to myself which creeped out the CSI guy. What I was saying was:

“Let’s see here, I already observed the late Peter Desmond walking around, and I want to know what caused it… Hey! Under-undertaker, can I see the murder weapon?” he looked at me like I was crazy or something but he reluctantly told me that it was in the evidence bag in his van I went out with him borrowed the gun sped down to CIASF and dropped it off with some nerds to analyze it, I went off to the library and looked through a book listing all the different problems that OPS house had caused the campus including a list of different instances of re-animated corpses. I narrowed the list down to several possible causes, either the bullets in the gun where cursed, they where covered in a mutating virus or where radioactive. I went out to dinner, wound up in a party, woke up the next morning with the words GET A JOB tattooed to the bottom of my foot and then checked on the nerds. They said the bullets where coated in a virus that kills things and then brings them back to life with only the thought of eating meat or doing other examples of consumerism on their mind. This narrowed it down to two types of virus that could possibly have caused the adverse reaction in Peter. One was developed by Malt Sidney, which would make anyone infected have an insatiable urge to buy Nicky Louse shaped objects and watch bad movies containing teen heartthrobs with no personality. The other virus was developed by Donald McRondle which used a similar virus but made the infected not only detected to bland tasteless pieces of cow (or any type of meat if a place that had kids meals wasn’t in the immediate facility) but left them just enough brain functionality to manage to overcharge you be 3 dollars even if you order off the so called “dollar menu”.  
Once I figured out which virus Pete had I could find out who might have gotten the tainted bullets. So I was pleasantly surprised when I got back to the office with a Nicky Louse doll that Peter had yet to be “subdued,” I convinced them to let me throw the doll in to see what happened. I checked off in the book that I had tested the hypothesis and that I was observing what was happening. The late Peter looked at the doll, looked at the window, and then tried to get the pigeon perched on the windowsill.

“Aha, that can only mean one thing!” I exclaimed tossing half of a kid’s meal into the room (I had gotten hungry on the way over). The reanimated corpse started eating the food with gusto and playing with the cheap wind-up toy. I was nearly done with the case, I knew that only a fellow Omonay Potmay Sigma house member could have gotten their hands on the tainted led. And there was only one slime-ball in town who would sell them; my future arch-nemesis Rocky Rococo.

I confronted Rocky in his favorite dive: The Main Street Drug Store. You could get anything in there, penicillin, bicarbonate of soda, even licorice. I found the sleazy scoundrel sipping something chocolaty.

“What do you want Danger?” he snarled at me from under his stupid little Fez.

“Information, Rococo, you’re not in trouble, for once.” I told him

“That is going to cost you Danger; information is like a club that I run: it costs to get in!” The little man cackled maniacally. This was very discomforting, I decided I would forget him and that cologne that the bottle on the table claimed was from Egypt as soon as this was done.

“So what do you want Rocky? To be put in the witness protection program or maybe you want me to introduce you to a dame? Oh, wait I know, you want to trade that goofy hat for a swell fedora like mine!” I was sure it was the last one; no OPS member wanted to look like a Shriner.

“No you buffoon! I want to know how you paid for that ring you gave to Betty-Joe Bialowski!” he fairly screamed at me.

“You mean Nancy? Oh I just got her to sign this contract.” Remembering Nancy tugged at my heart strings. I didn’t even realize that Rococo had copied it down as I stood there in heart ache. Nor did I realize that 665 cases later this would come back to haunt me, but I digress.

“Okay Danger, you got a deal, I sold the bullets to some girl named Hannah Desmond, she was in the library at this time yesterday when I sold her the bullets, as far as I can tell she studies there everyday. I didn’t know what she was going to do with them so you can’t pin any accomplice to murder charges on me.” The little squirt was denying that he had anything to do with this. But I didn’t really care I almost had the murderer and that meant I almost had my license. As I sat in my car in the parking lot I checked out the book I had borrowed from Professor Nothingsuspiciousaboutme’s office. Did I formulate a question? Check. I did some research and data collection (actually those nerds did most of it but I’m the one who thought to set them to working). I formed than tested my hypothesis, tested it and drew conclusions. That meant there was only one thing left to do. Catch the perp…

TO BE CONTINUED! Tune in again to find the exciting conclusion to our story A Bad Case of Murder, Part Two or Just in the Nick of time, for DANGER!

**Author's Note:**

> You made it through that?
> 
> Wow.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Well, if there were a Part 2, I can assure you it will be better written.


End file.
